So Beautiful and Wild
by MichellePomPom
Summary: After "The Flesh Curtains" met their astonishing performance peak, Rick is faced with a person from his past, someone that will tornment him more than Rick could ever expect. Two worlds colliding, two stories that are more than they seem to be, one strange relationship based on drugs, violence and pyshical and emotional abuse that has to get over many barriers.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

 _She never took the train alone,_

 _She hated being on her own,_

 _She always took me by the hills,_

 _And say she needs me._

 _(...)_

 _So beautiful and wild... So beuatiful and wild..._

\- Reamon - "Tonight"

'THE FLESH CURTAINS! GOODNIGHT NEW JERSEY!'

The lights went on and off as the hardcore tunes stopped and were replaced by some elevator-type music. That's a peculiar way to end a concert, but that's how the flesh curtains did it. They were the new sensation and whatever they did seemed perfect. Screaming fans, bras and panties thrown on the stage, even insulin-charged pens could be seen on the stage after just one song. Fans are crazy, that's for sure. But the band were not bothered by that.

'Let's see the LOOT BITCHEEES!' screamed the guitarist and main-vocalist inside the dressing room. 'Let's see what those bi-booorp-bitches got us this time!'

'I have personally checked them. 14 pairs of panties, 8 bras, 11 teddybears, a lot of flowers' the man with both wings and arms pointed to a huge bucket full of flowers 'and some other things that I am not sure where to categorise them.'

'A-ARRRRR-and alcohol?' burped the vocalist.

'You have a bottle in your hands.' Bird-Person said.

'Nah, that's just some-buuuuuurp-some beer with cocaine. This shit ain't strong enough to make this bi-biiiiirrrrrghhh-bitch tipsy.'

'I am not familiar with lifestyle on Earth but I am pretty sure that that still categorises as alcohol.'

'Suck a di-diiiiiick man.'

'In bird culture, that is considered a dick move.'

'Whatever. I'm gonna go take a shit.'

Just as he wanted to get up, a cat-like creature entered the dressing room. He was walking on two legs, looking rather trashed.

'WHADDUP SQUANCHIEEEEEE!' the vocalist yelled.

'Hey Rick! Hey Bird-Person! Whad'ya doing?'

'Just some –buuuuurp-some loot checking'

'NICE! What kind of squanch do we have here?'

'Nothing good.'

'No alcohol?'

'Just beer a-aaaand cocaine.'

'That's weak man! Ain't nobody gonna get squanched by that squanch!'

'Told ya.' said Rick while shoving the green bottle in Bird-Person's face.

'I have to learn more about the Earth.'

'Where were you Squanchie?'

'Just squanching some chicks in the backstage. Sqanched them a really good squanch.'

'Niiiiiiiceeeeee!'

Rick and Squanchie high-fived each other just as a member of the guard staff peeked his head inside the dressing room.

'Rick Sanchez?'

'Whadd'ya want?'

'Some fan wants to meet you.

'Tell th-thaaaaaaaat bitch you can't be here for meet-and-greet without a bracelet.'

'But he says he knows you.'

'All of them do apparently.'

Right behind the guard, a tall, muscular man with a mullet-like haircut was trying to get past the guards.

'RICK YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU BETTER LET ME IN OR ELSE I'M GONNA TELL THE MEDIA ABOUT THE PIRATES THING!'

Just as he finished listening to those words, Rick got up from the couch and made his way to the door. He pushed the guard away and looked outside. The man with the mullet haircut was battling some of the security staff, punching one of them right in the left cheek. He was a really solid man, really muscular and had a little beer-belly. However, he was wearing a shirt that was obviously a little too thight at the chest and somewhat too loose at the bottom, that clearly has seen better days in its life, with the words "The Flesh Curtains" written on it.

Rick looked at the man, and made the first guard a sign with the finger that meant it was time for the security staff to back the fuck off.

'Sup you fucker. Got here for another round of Sanchez a-aaaaaass?'

'I like my balls in the state they are now thanks.'

'I'm not sure you under-staaaaaand how much of a little bitch you are for coming here.'

'The last time I checked you were the one that got a dick inside you so you should re-think who the bitch is.'

'Wow! So many big words here! Did you get accepted to your brotheer's stupid sch-oool too?'

At that point, the man with the mullet lifted his fist, and with a fast swing he punched Rick in the face. Baffled and still tipsy, Rick swung around for 1-2 meters and covered his cheek with his hand.

'Deserved it.' he admitted.

'Fucker.'

'So I'm taking a wild guess here. You are not here to punch me in the face, right?' said Rick sobering up.

'No... I am here for...'

'Money, right?'

'How did you know?'

'I didn't think you missed me too much and the only thing that made me remotely think that your worthless piece of ass would come to the concert's dressing room would be to borrow money for your strange good-to-nothing "bussinesses" and your bath salts addiction.'

'Look – just one grand! I swear this is the last time- '

'Whoa-whoa-whoa – Stanley. I thought you were smarter than begging for money from me.'

'Fuck you.'

Rick reached out to the back-pocket of his skinny leather pants and grabbed a stack of pack dollars. He counted them. 1000$. He took the stack of money and flauted it in front of the man who looked really annoyed by that. He was clearly not having it and was not going to accept this kind of behaviour.

'Suck a dick Rick.'

'Oh you upsetty? Ye you little weeny bitch? You want some of these bucks?'

'You really like to kill me from inside don't you?'

'I bet you'd like to suck my dick for this stack of money, don't ya you little prick?'

'Come on Rick cut the crap just tell me what I have to do to get that fucking stack of fucking money.'

'You know, there are a few things that will make me give you this. And I think you know what I mean.'

'I told you I'm not going to do this again. I have a girlfriend.'

'Had. You HAD a girlfriend. Don't lie to me Pines I know what you've been up to lately.'

'Are you STALKING ME?'

'It's not stalking. It's "investigating for personal interests"'

'That's still stalking.'

'Whatever you say Stanley. The fact is that none of the things that you think matter matter. So you can continue being a little bitch and give up forever on your hopes and dreams that will make your time on Earth look like mattered for a while or you just suck my dick and continue making shadow to the ground in what seems like a little help to the economy.'

'Damn.'

'So?' and Rick pulled out of his pants, or maybe said, underpants, a lighter and opened it, revealing golden flames.

As the flames started approaching the stack of money, Stanley knew that Rick wasn't messing around. He was the smartest man in the universe ( whatever that meant ) and knew that at this point in his life he was the only financial support available without involving fiscal evasion or prostitution. Not like he didn't do those already, but let's just say the law enforcement wasn't really on his side during this time of his life.

And although he knew that this stack wasn't the only one that Rick had, the actual burning of 1000$ for him was more like a metaphor. It meant that if he decided not to accept his offer, Rick would never give him a single coin again. And at this point in his life... this was NOT an option. The lighter was getting closer and closer so he had to make a decision fast.

'Fine. But only this one last time.'

'That's what you said the last four times.'

'Fuck off. Where?'

'At the Telegraph Hotel. Ask for Sanchez and say you deliver the special a beer bottle and wear a cat collar with a bell attached on it. Also, bring some cocaine too. You still have some right?'

'Don't you have your own?'

'I miss cheap ass cocaine like peasants.'

'Did you just call me a peasant?'

'I did.' and Rick lit himself a cigarette.

'That's even stranger than the last time.'

'Want money? You'll do it.'

'Fuck me.'

'Later bitch. WUBBA LUBBA DUB DUB!'

'Fuck you too.'

'At 2. Don't forget. I surely won't.'

Rick turned around and got inside the dressing room, closing the door behind him.

There was so much silence inside the dressing room. At first, Rick wanted to ask why, but as he looked at the radio on the nearby table, all he could hear were these things, spoken by a woman with a coarse voice:

'Rick Sanchez – well, not much is known about him. He just kind of appeared around Seattle and from there, the rest of The Flesh Curtains got around too. And then their fame rose to the top. Rick's style and unconventional nihilism made him appear on the cover of "Top Men", and fans, all the genders included, wanted to have him inside their pants. And the thing is, Rick lets them all have it. So obviously, a lot of rumours about his strange sexual prefferences are starting to appear here and there, which makes him more popular.'

Another person, this time a man, continued:

'The truth is, he has some kind of aura that is really attractive to most of the Earth's population. Who could blame them though? His long, messy hair, probably chemically dyed blue, his nonconformist way of dressing up and nonchalance could swing anyone off of their feet.'

'What?' the woman asked.

'N-Nothing... Not that I would know... He...he... Uhm HOWEVER! Something strange is to this character as well. It is rumoured that he does not enjoy showing affection to anyone and anything and being sober is just an unknown concept to him. Despite the manager's efforts to make him at least be sober during the concerts, nothing seems to stop him from at least sniffing some cocaine at the back of the stage.'

The woman continued:

'Not to say that his fellow band members are strange as well. The member that dresses up as a walking cat is really popular among fans as well. And the one in the bird costume is even more popular. But that's besides the point. We were talking about Rick. Basically, he is a strange fellow. But a hot one. Not that I would have an opinion as well... hehehe...'

'Turn that off until it gets to your head.'

'Rick ' said Bird-Person ' are you sure about this Stanley Pines?'

'Why wouldn't I b-beeeeee sure?'

'Rick. I have known you for many years. And never in my life have I ever seen you so tornmented over someone.'

'Yeah, I thought I look like this all the time I – buuuuuurp – take a piss.'

'Are you going to go and meet him?'

Rick did not want to answer so he decided to go to the bathroom. Closing the door behind him, he approached the mirror, supporting all his weight at the edges of the sink. Looking in the mirror, his eyes were placed upon the dark circles aroud his eyes, then on his hair, which was before slikly groomed, but now messy and frizzy. His stage-makeup was smeared all around the face, and his muscle top torn here and there.

He opened the faucet, took some water and splashed it across his face.

His face and hair wet, water dripping down his neck and chest, made him shiver for a second, as a breeze came from the opened bathroom window. Rick fell on his behind, legs spread on the floor, and with a hand on his face. Flipping around the floor, his other hand soon found a half-empty beer bottle. Though, from the smell of it, it didn't seem like there was only beer inside that bottle. There was certainly more vodka inside that recipient than plain beer.

Not giving much of a fuck, Rick took a strong gulp from the bottle, growled at the taste and let his head fall and hit the door on which his back was supported. Closing his eyes, his mind drifted far away, to the old days. However, whatever he was thinking about, he was not happy remembering it, as he took another gulp fromthe bottle. And another gulp. And another gul. And another. More. And more. Until the bottle was empty.

Having nothing to drink anymore, Rick threw the bottle across the bathroom, which hit the sink and shattered in a dozen pieces ( both the sink and the glass ). Taking his jacket from the bathrom's hanger, he left one more growl before he rose up. He put it on and looked at himself one more time in the mirror.

'Wubba Lubba Dub Dub...'

Inside the main room, the silence was still so thick you could cut it with a knife, until the doorbell rang. Bird-Person got up, walked to the bathroom door and knocked a few times.

'Rick. Pizza has arrived.'

No response.

'Rick?'

The door creaked as it revealed an empty bathroom, full of green glass shards and the window opened.

'Wubba Lubba Dub Dub Rick. Why are you doing this to yourself...?'

...

The air in the street was cold. The breeze giving shivering down the spine was only adding to the blue feeling he had. The cab's wheels schreeching on the asphalt was the only thing that he could hear. Turning around the street, the Telegraph Hotel's sign was shining in the dark corner of that secluded New Jersey area.

'Keep the change.' he said getting outside the car.

As the cab drove off, a new sound could be heard. The unmistakable ring of the hotel doorbell. He looked down to the wrist watch. 1:45 A.M.. The night was still young.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

 _And then the night becomes the day_  
 _and there's nothing left to say_  
 _If_ _there's nothing left to say_  
 _then something's wrong_

 _(...)_

 _So beautiful and wild_

 _So beautiful and wild_

\- Reamon - Tonight

The clock showed it was 1:45. He walked inside the hotel lobby when he observed that no one was at the reception desk. He looked around carefully and finally found a guy in a black suit and a handkerchief on his hand walk towards one of the back exists.

'Hey! I-I want to know if there is someone at the front desk.'

The man, clearly bothered, rolled his eyes and stepped behind the front desk.

'How can I help you?'

'I am searching for Rick Sanchez's room. I brought him the special delivery and-'

'Room 5-03. Fifth floor. Take the elevator.'and the man in black suit handed Stanley a pair of keys.

'Well that was easy.' he thought and proceeded walking towards the elevator. Walking inside, he looked at his back-pocket: A cat collar with a small bell attached to it and a small packet with a white powder inside. In his hand, there was a beer bottle. He wanted to buy one for himself too, but he didn't have the money for it. He barely could afford buying all this stuff for Rick. Well, he already had the cocaine but that was besides the point.

Arriving at the fifth floor, he started to look for room 5-03. Strangely, the room was located at the back of the corridor and had a smaller door than the rest of the rooms. Stanley thought he maybe should put the collar first, but who knows what Rick has planned this time. He was really into sub-dom, that was sure, but sometimes he had such strange requests from him. Like that one time he took him sky-diving and insisted of having intercourse in the air.

After some time of not answering the door, Stanley thought it would be a good idea to knock again. But just as his knuckles were about to touch the door, it opened with a creak.

'Rick! I thought you were - '

And Rick pulled Stanley inside by grabbing his t-shirt ( which did not help the situation with the state of the tee ) and pressed his lips hard against Stanley's. He smashed him onto the door, closing it with a loud bang. His rough kisses were heating up their bodies, which were dancing in an un-synchronised ballet of pleasure. Caught up in the heat of the moment, Stanley picked Rick up from the ground with his legs wrapped around his waist, and Stanley's hands around the other man's ass. They barely made their way to the bed, stumbling across a coffee table and a few alcohol bottles.

Stanley propped Rick onto the bed. His arms wrappd around Stanley's neck, grasping it and holding it thight.

'Fuck me up you little bitch.'

'Rick I can't really -'

'I said fuck me up. Fuck my brains away!' and groped Stanley's throat even harder.

Stanley, gasping for air, started taking off his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and reaching inside his pants to get his throbbing manhood out. He grabbed one of Rick's hand and with an unusual brutal strentght, flipped him into a doggy-style position, proceeding to take off his pants from the back. Gripping both of Rick's hands in his, lifting him on his knees.

He started kissing the nape of his neck and and back, biting his skin, leaving reddish marks all over Rick's back. He took off his shirt, revelaing his sickly-looking skin, filled with bruises and marks. At first, when they first starting doing this, Stanley was very disturbed and a sense of sadness crawl down his spine. But since then, he got used to this sight, and it mildly turned him on even more since he knew he was going to leave his own marks on him.

'What you doing bitch? Did your dick floppy disk already?'

'Oh shut the fuck up you little bitch. And... stay... put!'

And pushed him down again, revealing his ass again. Teasing him with the tip of his dick, Stanley tried to fit inside his partner. As soon as he was inside him, Rick left out a gasp of air. Stanley's thickness was an experience he always enjoyed.

'Oh... Fuck Stanley...'

'Are you still into sub-dom?'

'Fuck me up man.'

He pushed Rick's head hard onto the matress, making him moan. With his right hand still around both of the other's man wrists, he started to thrust in and out, hitting him harder and harder until Rick began to breathe heavily.

'Yeah you little fuck? Yeah... You like that?'

'Is this all you can do? You think you're fucking me?'

'Want harder? Yeah...?' Stanley was trying to speak between fast and short breaths.

'I thought you were into hard fuckery. I guess not.'

Stanley literally lifted Rick and pushed him onto the bed, grasping his waist. Thrusting was easier from this position, and he started doing it harder and harder while his left hand wrapped around his partner's neck, trapping it in a choking experience that Rick clearly enjoyed.

His dick nowfully erect and revealed, was moving up and down.

'Fuck. This shit is in the way.'

The right hand that was on Rick's waist was slowly moving to his dick. He grabbed it and squeezed the hell out of it. Rick left out a scream of pain, which was not really something that was necessarily unpleasant for him. Stanley could tell that Rick was really getting off of this.

'Yeah! Fuck! Fuck. Me. Up!'

'Rick you are killing me!'

'You know what should kill you? The abandonment of your brother!'

'WHAT?'

'You heard me you little shit! I can't get it off with you unless you sniff some bath salts! You are a dissapointment even while fucking with someone!'

Stanley was furious. And in the fire of his madness he started to brutally thrust inside Rick, as if he wanted to literaly break his body into a thousand pieces and them glue them together by smashing each other into his flesh. His left hand, still on Rick's neck, was almost killing him, leaving not a single breath of air get to his lungs.

'Fu..ck... Fuuuuuck.' Rick was trying to gasp for air but couldn't.

'WHO'S THE BITCH NOW? I SEE YOUR SLUTTY FACE YOU FUCKING PRICK!'

Rick's eyes seemed to want to get out of their socket, his tongue, outside searching for Stanley's and his hands grasping whatever leftover sheets were on the bed were analyzed by the other man's eyes.

'Aaagh... Fuuuu...ck...' Rick let out a scream to indicate that he was about to come.

'Did I fucking let you get close? DID I?'

But from the vocalist's mouth could only be heard unearthly sounds that were more begging for air rather than sexual pleasure.

'ASK ME IF YOU CAM CUM!'

'Fu... ck you...'

Stanley slapped Rick's cheek, leaving a huge red mark behind.

'SAY IT!' and continued choking him, even harder. At this rate, he could actually kill Rick without noticing.

'Let... me... cum...'

'I said... ASK ME IF YOU CAN COME!'

'Can... -inhale- can I come?'

'Beg for it.'

'I'd... spit... your â€"inhale- face... but... can't...'

'Beg.'

'Let... me... -inhale- come.'

'Oh... I'll let you come...'

And with the rest of his strength, Stanley thrusted inside Rick one more time, letting it out to spurt a huge load of cum.

Meanwhile, from Rick's tortured manhood, a load of white thick liquid gushed all over Stanley's face which was leaning above him.

...

'Doesn't it hurt...?'

'Pain is relative. It is just your brain telling you that you are in danger. A skill used to protect us from bees in the wilderness.'

'If you say so...'

Stanley looked at Rick's neck, where now were reigning five huge black marks in the shape of his fingers.

'You didn't have to mention Ford.'

'Knowing your limits help you. It shows you how mediocre this world is and in comparison to it, you are nothing.'

'It still hurts.'

'Stop being a little bitch about it and get your shit together.'

Rick, reached out of the bed, while keeping his lit cigarette between his lips. He grabbed Stanley's pants from the floor and took out the white powder.

Getting up, he dumped the cocaine onto Stanley's chest, making lines with a dollar found in Stanley's jeans.

'So... About the money?'

Sniffing the lines on Stanley, Rick reached out once more, this time in his own pants which were lying on the floor as well and took out the stack of money.

Because his cigarette was now all burnt out, Rick decided to light another one. After turning onn the lighter, Rick lit his cigarette and then the money.

'NO! RICK WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?'

'I told you that you should get your life together.'

'HOW CAN I DO THAT NOW WITHOUT MONEY!?'

Puffing out of the cigarette, Rick stood on the edge of the bed.

'Look Stan. I do not like whiny bitches.'

A short break of silence filled the room.

'I can't give you money anymore.'

'WHAT?'

'I want to quit The Flesh Curtains.'

'You are shitting me right now!'

'I don't.'

'What am I supposed to do now?'

'Stan, I am going to leave.'

'Where are you gonna go? Europe or something?'

'C-137.'

'The fuck you talking there?'

'Stan, let me show you something.'

Rick got out of the bed and approached the closet and took out a gun-looking thing with some fluorescent green stuff attached to it.

In the next, moment, a green circle appeared inside the room.

'What... The fuck is this!?'

'This is a portal to other dimensions. This world you know is only a thiny speck in a huge multi-verse where every possible reality already happened.'

'Everything?'

'Everything. And I plan to leave. Forever.'

'What? I don't understand any of this.'

'You don't have to. I just NEED to leave. And I want to take you with me.'

'What?'

'I want your bitch-ass to come with me.'

'Rick... I don't under-'

'Come with me Stanley.'

'Rick...'

Rick's hand reached out to Stanley, his eyes looking blankly in Stan's and his lips repeating the words:

'Come.'


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

 _She never wanted love to fail_

 _She always hoped that it was real_

 _She'd look me in the eyes And say 'believe me'_

 _And then the night becomes the day_

 _And there's nothing left to say_

 _If there's nothing left to say_

 _Then something's wrong_

 _(...)_

 _So beautiful and wild... So beautiful and wild..._

 _Reamon – Tonight_

'Ugh... Why am I doing this to myself...?'

Stanley woke up with a splitting headache. The curtains that covered the windows were blown by the fresh morning breeze. He got out of the bed, wiggling around and trying to not trip over the dozen of beer bottles on the floor. He was not sure wheter or not it would be worth if he cleaned the house but he didn't really give a damn. The point was, the bottles were now a safety issue in that house. He could trip and break his neck anytime.

'Not worth it.'

The outside wind made him shiver. It could have probably been from the fact that he was only wearing his boxers and outside was Oregon's typical november weather. Not to mention the shack was in the heart of the forest so that did not help the situation either. All in all, besides the hangover and the undescribable urge to die, Stanley decided it was better if he went for a cup of coffee instead.

The kitchen was as messy as he left it last night. Not surprising. The trash isn't going to get itself out. Sadly. Stupid Ford. He did all that mambo-jambo of a portal but couldn't make something that teleports trash out? Honestly, he's going to do exactly that when he gets him back. If that would be soon enough, obviously. Or, at all. Truthfully, he didn't have any other option than to try and find the other journals. One journal with not enough information and his lack of knowledge in basically anything that remotely relates to pyshics, or maths, or chemistry, or the knowledge of space and time did not help him at all.

That coffee tastes like shit. It's probably because of the hangover. Yeah, probably that. His brain could not even process the taste of coffee. He felt so miserable. Like any other day. All day everyday. Everyone left him. Now he was all alone with himself. And that shitty coffee. Is this all karma from highschool? Well then karma is, indeed a bitch.

As he gulped the last amount of that dirty bean water, he declared that the day shall continue only after he cleaned all that garbage in the kitchen. And by 'cleaning' he meant putting all the trash in a bag and throwing it outside. After the Ford incident, he decided he could not live under his own name and so he chose to fake his own death. He couldn't bear the thought of his father learning that his precious Ford has dissapearred. And after all – how could he possibly explain to his parents that his twin brother was literally sucked out of this reality through a portal-type-machine to heaven-knows-where? Yeah, that didn't seem like an option.

So, the best solution he could find was doing what he did best – scam people. But this time, he scammed a NATION. He could now live his brother's life, with all the privileges he could possibly imagine. He recieved so many calls from unkown people saying they are sorry for his loss and never in his life has he felt so important. Faking the best Ford-like accent that he could do, he answered all those calls and redeemed himself in the face of everyone.

Just as he was about to go outside with the trash bag, he felt a chill down his spine. It was probably a sign that during freaking november he was chilling inside the house only in his underwear. Or, it could be a sign that something significant is about to happen to him. But mostly, the boxers thing.

'Jesus Christ Ford... Couldn't you buy a place in California? Why Oregon? Fuck me...'

As soon as he stepped out of the house, Stanley felt like something was out of place. Something was simply... different. He couldn't tell exactly what, but just the feeling was giving him the creeps.

However, he shrugged at the thought and proceeded to throw the trashbag in the bin.

'GET OUT OF HERE YOU FILTHY RATS!' Stanley yelled at some racoons that were searching around for stuff and threw a plastic bottle at them.

However, despite the fact that he was trying to get used to the weirdness of those little devils, the racoon threw another bottle back at him and if he didn't step aside, his skull would've suffered a severe trauma.

'Even racoons have paranormal powers around here. What the actual fuck... Fuck you Ford. Also, why am I getting stuck only in THESE KIND OF THINGS? Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck everything.'

He suddenly felt like someone was watching him from behind but couldn't really put the finger on why that was happening. As he was turning around, someone grabbed him by the shoulders, covering his eyes and his mouth.

As he couldn't scream, all he could do was fight back. He tried kicking and smashing the other person, finally finishing with hitting the other one in the face.

But as the impact of Stanley's elbow with the attacker's cranium happened, a familiar voice echoed:

'What the FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?'

'R... Rick?'

'No, it's Santa Claus! Of course it's me dumbfuck! Who the hell could bother visiting your piece of trash ass?'

'What are you doing here?'

'I had to see you. It is important.'

'The suspense is really killing me. You could first tell me WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO ALL THESE YEARS AND WHY ARE YOU BACK?'

'I don't think that you can comprehend the concept of emergency which would be very obvious from the tone that I used.'

'You can flaunt those fancy words all you want, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't know what the fuck is happening.'

'That's what I'm trying to tell you' said Rick face-slapping himself 'we need to talk in private, where nobody can hear us.'

'Then let's go inside.'

'Thought you'd never ask.'

After they locked themselves inside the house, Rick seated himself on a chair near the kitchen table.

'Uhm... Want something to drink?'

'Nah, I have mine.'

Rick took out a flask out of his white lab-coat. Thinking about it, Stanley never saw him wearing something similar like that and though he wanted to ask about it, he decided it wasn't really the best time for it.

'So, what is it SOOO important that you felt the need to get you ass here?'

'It's about your brother.'

'Ford?'

'Who else?'

'Nevermind. What do you know about him?'

Stanley's hands were sweating and his heart was beating fast. How could Rick have information about his brother since he was gone for already such a long period of time?

'Remember some years ago, when I showed you the portal for the first time?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, through the past years, there have been detected similar attempts to break the code for this project. At first, I thought it was just some people in a lab trying to created time-travel or some shit like that, but the radiations and the signals have become stronger with every year, month, or even week or day.'

He took a sip from his flask, whilst Stanley was clenching his fists.

'I thought I was the smartes man on Earth. In evry possbile reality. But it turns out I was out-smarted. By YOUR brother.'

'What do you mean?'

'You don't think I don't know that Ford disspaeared for almost a year now, do you?'

'How...'

'Your brother unlocked the secret to OBVIOUSLY his experiments did not work out since he dissapeared without a trace and left YOU behind.'

'Hey! That was uncalled for.'

'Just like your brother destroying the equilibrium of this world.'

'You know how I can find him...?'

'I don't think that this is the right question to ask. First of all, I wanna see his prototype.'

'How do you know about the machine?'

'If there is a portal, there has to be a piece of technology that created it.'

That actually made sense and Stanley felt stupid for asking it in the first place.

'So? What are you waiting for? Show me.'

A little hesitantly, Stanley took Rick into the basement to the laboratory. There, standing between multiple books, papers, calculations and so many other things, stood a lever. Stanley pressed it , and a door opened in frot of them. In the huge room that stood right before their eyes, there was an enormous machinery, which looked like a triangle, with a circle in the middle, and two other pieces on either side of it in a cilindrical shape.

'So this is it.'

Stanley took a deep breath. It felt like so many emotions took him over and did not know whether to cry or to faint.

Rick approached the portal and took a closer look at it.

'So rudimentary. I should've known.'

'What did you say?'

'That this is by definition a mediocre work. I am no surprise it didn't work.'

Stanley felt his heart drop to the floor. His mind going blank and seeing only black beofre his eyes, he jumped on Rick, pinning him down onto the ground.

'I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!'

Rick was calmly looking at him, and as Stanley lifted his fist to punch him, he caught it in his palm and looking straight into his eyes, said:

'Beating me up won't get him back. Stop being a little bitch and act like a man.'

Stanley, still angry, huffing and puffing, looked back at Rick. He looked at his lab coat and thought of Ford. It reminded him of all the science fairs he took part on and how he somehow managed to win every time. How they would stay up all night thinking of the proper ways to engineer the boat that was going to get them out of that house and start a new life on.

Without noticing, he started crying.

'WHY? WHY DOES THIS SHIT HAPPEN TO ME? WHY ME? BECAUSE I DESTROYED THAT STUPID SCIENCE FAIR PROJECT? WHYYY?'

He stood up, falling on his knees and then laying on his back, covering his face with his hands.

'Don''t start this man.' Rick said with a tone that indicaated pity.

'Fuck off! Why does this thing happen to me? Everyone leaves me Rick! EVERYONE! I HAVE NO ONE! NO ONE! MOM AND POPS DON'T EVEN KNOW THAT I AM ALIVE! When they heard that their Stanley died, you know what pops said? "He was so reckless, I never thought he would make it in the real world.". THEY ABANDONED ME! AND FORD! Fucking FORD! HE ONLY NEEDED ME TO HIDE HIS STUPID FUCKING JOURNAL! HE DIDN'T NEED A BROTHER! He needed a CIA AGENT! AND YOU! You left me too! Everyone just fucking leaves!'

'Come on man what the fuck you doing?'

'I AM AFRAID OF BEING ALONE ANYMORE! I don't want to be alone anymore...' Stanley tried to articulate his words as best as he could, since he began hiccuping between the tears.

'Get up.'

'No... more... no... more...'

'I said GET. THE FUCK. UP!'

Rick approached Stanley and took his hands off of his face. His eyes were red and puffy from crying and his nose red ( more than usual ). He halped him sit up on his butt and looked in his eyes. Raising a hand, he slapped Stanley over the face, then said.

'Get your shit together.'

Stanley could only stay there in shock, thinking about what just happened. He saw Rick approaching him one more time, but this time, he felt warmth. Was he... hugging him? That wasn't like Rick at all. He didn't know how to react, but ended up just sobbing again.

'I just don't want to be alone anymore...'

'Yes. I know. Loneliness is a weird thing. But sometimes, it is just better to be on your own.'

Stanley raised his arms and hugged Rick back, and they remained like this, for a while, in that place where two hearts were trying to squeeze into one through an embrace, illuminated by the poor lights in the laboratory where suffering and despair dominated the air.


End file.
